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Month: May 2016

I’ve had such a long weekend off from work, and I haven’t known what to do with myself. Baby W was born Thursday, yes, but he’s 3 days old and while very cute, very boring.

I haven’t really wanted to play sims or read Game of Thrones (though I’m currently on the last book that’s out!). I haven’t wanted to watch any of my shows and I’ve been really not wanting to facetime Bear. Just in a weird funk, I guess.

I spent my morning sorting out my budget. As always, I was surprised when I apparently will have $150 after all my bills. Where does this extra money always go? I always feel I’m struggling to the next paycheck. Okay, I know where it goes, and it’s my parents. We have been living below the poverty line ever since my mom got really sick and my dad got injured at work. It has been probably 7 or 8 years of this, and it’s destroyed my parents.

As a kid, my parents owned their own company and we were actually wealthy. We moved for my little brother’s health and to be near my dying great-grandpa, and it was all fine until my mom got uteran cancer and my dad was permanently disabled in a bad series of events. We soon had no money for lunches for school. No money for new clothes. No money for school supplies. As I have gotten older, there is still no money but I work and now my parents suck all of it up.

I can’t tell them when I get paid or when I have extra money, because then something comes up and they need it. I am not blaming them. I can’t imagine the stress of having to provide for 10 people and not having any way to have an income. I can’t imagine it literally AT ALL. Of course they only mention they need something when they know I have money. Why would they mention it if they thought I didn’t have any?

It’s just extremely frustrating because I have credit cards that need to be paid off because I let them use it and I have things I want to save up for. I have a good job and relatively few bills so I should, in theory, be able to save up. But I can’t because my parents always need my money.

This month I tried a new strategy — I took $20 out and gave it to them before they asked, but told them that’s all I have to give them. Maybe that will make things better. $20 once is better than $5 or $6 ten times in two weeks. I am hoping that once I move in with B (if i can ever save up enough to do so) that they will stop asking me for money.

The distance that will be between us then will hopefully separate me from all of their stress because they will be so happy just to see me that they won’t want to add on. I feel horribly guilty about wishing they’d keep it to themselves because it’s a very selfish way for me to think. I just can’t live with their stress and my own. They have recently gotten food stamps and started going to the food bank so I really hope that starts to help them. SIL is on WIC so if they would learn how to cook with healthier foods then that could really help. Brother should be getting a job soon. I feel guilty about needing the space but I can’t wait until I have it.

Baby W. was born on May 26th! My boss actually gave me the day off work since SIL was scheduled to be induced early that morning. I was with her the whole time. Once she got her epidural, she literally said she felt no pain! She said she couldn’t even really tell when she was contracting. About 2 hours after her epidural, she goes, “I think I need to push but I’m not sure. Maybe not. Nevermind.” I told her she should call the nurse just in case, and when they opened her legs up to check her, baby W was RIGHT THERE. SIL giggled and baby W’s head pushed out. You should have seen the nurses panicking telling her to stop and closing her legs up since the doctor wasn’t there yet. She pushed baby W out in about 5 pushes and he only cried for 15 seconds until he was put on SIL’s chest. We spent 24 hours after that in the hospital and I finally brought them home yesterday. Baby W is so chill. SOOO chill. I love him already.

I still have another 2 full days off work, which is nice. I got paid today and I’m trying to make it so I can put some money in savings to see Bear for our 2nd anniversary coming up. I really can’t believe it’s been almost two YEAAAARS. That seems so crazy to me.

I may be moving in with B. We want to take it slow but I’m so excited about the idea of not living with or near my family that I almost can’t stand it. I will like them so much more when I’m not living with them and I’m hoping I can save a lot of money, too. I have known B for two years now. She is 20 and has lived on her own since she was 18 and won’t screw me over like Chick did.

I want so badly to be a good person. I want to be happy and full of good vibes. Someone that people can rely on. Someone who forgives people and supports others unconditionally but knows when to put her foot down so people don’t take advantage of her.

I’m considering making this blog 100% anonymous and making it public. That would obviously require changing the URL and changing names that I’ve mentioned. I want that connection with other people. I crave it. I want a community of people that read my struggle and my joys and talk to me about it. I want it anonymous because I don’t want to have the fear of someone I know seeing it and judging me or getting hurt. I want to be able to vent and cry and not worry about hurting people.

I’ve had Soya over for a few hours today and we all know that spending time with Soya brings up the Redbeard and Val situation.

I honestly feel so much guilt over all of this, and I have for a year and a half now. Beard loved me so much, so genuinely, but I was 17 and not ready to accept that. I didn’t know myself, I didn’t have my own opinions, I was questioning my sexuality, and I had very severe intimacy problems. Beard offered me his entire self but I couldn’t accept it because I wasn’t capable of giving my entire self to him. I don’t have any romantic feelings for him now, but I long for the friendship I know he wanted to give to me. I don’t have any friends because I made a lot of fake ones and kicked out the two real ones. I’ve missed Val mostly since I stopped talking to her.

Go with your gut, they say, but my gut doesn’t know you or if you want to hear that my 18-year-old self hurt you because I didn’t know myself but not because I didn’t love you.